


Her Ode to Snow-Covered Nights and Crimson Days

by writingwithmolls



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, I thought too much about how powerful Dorothea is, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), writing exercise: use prayer and under 1k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwithmolls/pseuds/writingwithmolls
Summary: "The old order has passed away: welcome them into paradise, where there will be no sorrow, no weeping, no pain, but fullness of peace and joy with the Goddess and her Saints forever and ever."Dorothea will not fall on the streets that nearly killed her, so she calls upon the stars themselves.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	Her Ode to Snow-Covered Nights and Crimson Days

**Author's Note:**

> Mentioned in tags but trigger warning for descriptions of blood and violence (canon-typical violence to Fire Emblem, but specifically lingers on the image of blood).

Crimson flowers rose from the ground before her; the stones cracking and breaking as they reached for the glorious sun above. If she fell to them, if she lay beside them and felt the cold ground below, then she could rest. Right on the street that gave her nothing but broken promises, back to the ground that tried to claim her as its own long before she fought a war.

“Dorothea, you have my protection,” Petra commanded, her own chest heaving and her head bleeding over her beautiful face—her eye obscured. “Do  _ not _ fall.”

The songstress’s voice abandoned her and she could not answer her dearest friend. The same gift that saved her now was muted to a whimper as she vomited blood onto the flowers, desperate not to die in the very place she escaped. The battle roared around her, soldiers falling side-by-side regardless of friend or enemy.

One day when Dorothea was young, she thought she was going to die. Death was no longer a stranger as Enbarr grew colder and the brilliant white snow piled high on the pathways. She was surrounded by buildings and palaces and none had food to spare for a girl. The same girl that ate the crumbs of the nobles and was tossed petty coins because she was too beautiful—dirt-covered—but beautiful, to be left on the streets alone. The city sang its praises and turned their backs, knowing that someone would  _ have to _ take pity on her. But each “someone” swore another “someone” would help until Dorothea was on the brink of death and “someone” morphed and melted into  _ no one _ .

As the snowflakes bit her skin and matted in her hair, she could only stare up to the moon and her silver light. A goddess that betrayed her, let her suffer, let her ache—let Dorothea die in a deafening silence of the cold street.

_ Through this holy anointing may the Goddess and her love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Goddess who frees you from sin save you and raise you up. _

She gazed upwards to the stars that twinkled violently in the night. Her body convulsed in reaction to the cold, and she could barely steady her eyes to see the endless picture book that wrote itself across the sky. Dorothea had wished on the same stars—the same night sky—countless times. Her wishes and pleas never came true. She never had the chance to sing on stage. The inhabitants of her city would only know her as the too-beautiful girl who drew a terrible hand of fate.

When she did sing on stage, when the stars finally aligned, she was given roses: thorns filed down so she could admire the vibrant petals without fear.

She was no longer on stage, and Dorothea cried into the crimson flowers, not knowing how many times the swords had pierced her or even why Petra would risk her future with her country for a girl dying on the streets once more. Edelgard would be at the front and she would be the one to save if there was a single person who stood above the rest.

She cursed the war, all the blood that came with it. The friends that fell and the friends who continued to fight. The song of war would only continue to build until it rose to a crescendo and broke upon the world, bathed in a new light.

Dorothea knew that she hated red as her face crashed into the flowers covered in her own blood.

The red tears Petra cried. She thought of Bern perched on a building, her fingers bleeding from drawing the bow. Caspar’s gauntlets being filled with the red liquid from his torn knuckles. Lin vomiting blood from over-exertion, falling to his knees among the soldiers he healed. Sometimes Edie’s heavy armor would wear through her skin, ripping it raw. The way that Ferdie’s lance bit into his palms. The scars and bleeding on Hubie’s forearms as he burned himself on his own magic.

_ In your hands, Oh Goddess, we humbly entrust our brothers and sisters. In this life you embraced them with your tender love; deliver them now from every evil and bid them eternal rest.  _

All the blood. All the crimson blood and the damned, red-soaked flowers.

The anger blossomed in her stomach, a hot pain that throbbed against every part of her being. Dorothea screamed, slamming her fists into the flowers and feeling a terrifying—a wonderful—surge of magic course through her and she called upon the stars to aid her. There would be no more wishing on the cursed twinkles of light. They would help her, they would bend to her command.

_ The old order has passed away: welcome them into paradise, where there will be no sorrow, no weeping, no pain, but fullness of peace and joy with the Goddess and her Saints forever and ever. _

Dorothea Arnault called upon the sky; and that day as the capital screamed, the sky bent to her in a hail of flame.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought too much about how powerful Dorothea is and how she can bring entire meteors down on her enemies. Perhaps not my usual fluff, but if you enjoyed this particular writing style it's much more aligned with Project Angel--my WIP about a fallen angel and an ambitious princess--that I talk about mostly on my Instagram @ mollymariewrites. Thank you as always for reading <3


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